I've been caught up in trying to figure out what is coming next. What is God equipping me for through seminary? What else should I be doing right now to prepare for... what's next? I've been wrestling with these questions for quite some time, feeling like I haven't wholly found my place in this world. I'm staring at an unchanging face in the sky, which is spurring me on me through subtle encouragements. I'm trusting that my days are building up to something, sure that tomorrow will come and I will be ready for it.
And I've come to realize that I've been asking the wrong questions. I have put so much pressure on myself to figure out what is to come, that I am missing the point of the present. Yes, my schooling is teaching and equipping me, enhancing my gifts and igniting a fire within me to serve in the ways that God has uniquely called me. But He has been gently reminding me that there is purpose in today too, not just tomorrow, not just in the completed puzzle, but in each individual piece. Each piece is vital to the overall picture of completion, and I'm beginning to think that the day the puzzle is complete will be the day I'm standing face to face with Jesus.
What if there really isn't mystery in our purpose? What if we are really just wrestling with the ghost of confusion when we find ourselves struggling to make sense of our lives? We find ourselves in a sea of mayhem, swimming in a pile of puzzle pieces that seem to be mismatched... but all that really needs to happen is that they need to be rearranged, by someone other than you and me.
There are some threads that weave through every narration of the Bible, themes that draw stories together, patterns that create harmony within the voice of Scripture. One of these threads that is currently grabbing my attention is the fact that God chooses unlikely people to carry out his purposes. He meets them in the midst of their every day life of threshing wheat, tending sheep, and gleaning in fields. These people are often outcasts, marginalized in society, the weakest or youngest in their families. They are far from perfect, but they are willing. Willing to say yes, willing to move forward, willing to be brave and do the seemingly impossible thing that God is asking them to do. And not once do they have all the pieces of the puzzle before them. They say yes, and then they move.
I am a dreamer. I have a sketch book filled with book ideas, projects, sketches of art work that I long to transfer to an actual canvas, and ministry plans. I tend to focus on the dream, the big picture, the finished project - which makes this season of life so challenging for me. Not knowing where I'm going is frightening to me.
The apostle Paul had a dream of going to Spain. It was high on his priority list, though he most likely never made it. But this dream of his, to spread the good news to surrounding nations, spurred him to write the book of Romans. In his commentary on Romans, N.T. Wright says, "...half our great plans, the dreams we dream for our churches and our world, and even for ourselves, are dreams God allows us to dream in order that, on the way there, we may accomplish, almost without realizing it, the crucial thing God intends us to do."
Our journeys are often more important than the finished puzzle. The journey is where we discover and write our story, where we find our voice and learn to speak, where we learn to walk bravely on the water with our eyes fixed on Jesus. Our stories tell of our purpose in this world. And whether we have a goal in sight or we are stepping blindly into the unknown, each story begins with a yes.
Today I embrace the journey - with all of the plot twists and turns and crescendos and valleys. I welcome the mystery in confidence. I'm not going to set out a fleece tonight, but trust in the One who called me by name. And I'm just going to keep on moving.
Excerpt taken from The New Interpreter's Bible Commentary, Volume IX, p.655.
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